


mistake

by EKmisao



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alliance with the other faction is a mistake, and only Grantaire can see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keio/gifts).



> This is originally a something rapidly typed up as a birthday gift to K, some weeks back. I hope you like.

He slammed the papers onto the table. “This is a mistake, my liege,” Grantaire warned. 

The leader stood from the stool, overturning two cheap wine goblets. “Give me one good reason,” Enjolras said as he glared at him. 

He pointed at the papers, letters from a group in the south of the city, promising support, providing information unknown to the king or the police. “You did not look at the terms well enough. You got swayed by those smooth talkers from the south. You’ve allied with people who may betray you at any moment.” 

“Are you Combeferre?” the leader snarled. 

Grantaire grinned, and shook his head. 

“You’re just drunk,” Enjolras declared. 

Graintaire smiled even more broadly. “For once, my liege, you are mistaken. I’ve had coffee. I still say this is a mistake.”

Enjolras looked at the other young men around the table. Several scratched their heads. Others looked at the papers again, and did not see the objection their cynic raised. 

“If I’m wrong,” Grantaire challenged, “I’m not coming back here. But if I’m right, you’re buying.” 

Enjolras nodded, with a deep scowl.

……………………..

Grantaire generally kept quiet and pensive and in a corner as the meeting progressed. Contrary to usual, he refused all proffered bottles of wine. He kept his eyes on his leader. 

The leader sideglanced at him while raising papers, rallying the others. “A wonderful sign of support this will be!” he declared. “We have friends, we have comrades!” 

Everyone else seemed happy about it, but Grantaire kept a sad grin. 

…………………………

Days passed. More letters came from the south, with more crucial information, about the problems plaguing the whole country, about the excesses the monarchy maintained despite them. Enjolras, thus fueled, spoke more loudly in more streets, raising anger and gaining more followers. 

Grantaire kept watching from within the assembled crowds, his eyes darting here and there through the people. When the leader glanced toward him, he looked away. 

“You join us, and yet you can’t be happy for us,” Enjolras said, confronting him as the crowds dispersed. 

Grantaire smiled and chuckled, holding his head. “OH, I’m with YOU, all the way, my liege. I just doubt these mysterious people who are helping you. I doubt THEM.” 

“Like you doubt everything.” 

“But of course, my liege!” he bowed with a flourish, but ended with a wince. 

“Something the matter?” Enjolras asked. 

“Nothing a little wine can’t mend. Haven’t had any,” he said, as he walked away.

………………………………..

The meeting that evening was filled with the evaluation of the morning’s success. More people knew about the cause, and were willing to support it. At the very least, more people were willing to listen. 

Suddenly rapid footfall came up the stairs. Then Combeferre abruptly grabbed the leader by the elbow and dragged him downstairs to the kitchen.

They passed Grantaire. “Bacchus. Come along,” Combeferre said. Grantaire shrugged and followed. 

The three assembled, surrounded by pots and pans and soup. Grantaire kept an eyebrow raised, Enjolras kept a worried eye on his voice of reason. 

“The group from the south? It was false. It was a plant. By supporters of the king. Since you replied, now they know where we meet. We need to find a new cafe.” 

Enjolras looked at Combeferre blankly. “You….you mean…” 

“Yes, our Bacchus was right. You owe him a round. More importantly, suggest a new meeting place, now.” 

The leader kept a blank stare. Grantaire calmly nodded. 

Combeferre grabbed his shoulders. “Enjolras!” 

“Oh…..oh, yes. The…the Musain. I know the landlady. The Musain should…be fine,” Enjolras stammered, glancing in confusion at Grantaire.

“I’ll handle it,” the voice of reason said, with a pat on the shoulder. “You need to apologize to Bacchus.” Combeferre left the kitchen and went back to their friends. 

………………………….

The rest of the group found Grantaire again only as they left the meeting. He was asleep at a table, with a silly grin. In front of him was an empty tall bottle of red wine. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Just one bottle and he’s knocked out?” 

“Haven’t you noticed?” Joly asked. 

“Noticed what?” Enjolras asked, completely bewildered. 

Joly slammed a palm into his forehead. “Our resident drunk has been completely sober. For days. Of course the wine will get to him, now that he’s been flushed clean for a while.”

“But…but why?”

Combeferre tsk-tsk-tsked. “Pay attention more often, leader. Apparently he’s been keeping an eye on our crowds. He’s been quietly weeding out those traitors who’ve been mingling. He needs to be sober to do that.” 

Enjolras sighed and shook his head at their oddest, most contradictory comrade. 

Then he smiled.


End file.
